


not the story of a wreck,

by Ahavaa



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:02:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25111330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ahavaa/pseuds/Ahavaa
Summary: barry west-allen: uh babe I had pants feelings about my mom's murderer back in the day and it makes me feel: badps we absolutely cannot do therapy about thisiris west-allen: this is not a one-hallway problem, damnit
Relationships: Barry Allen/Eobard Thawne | Harrison Wells, Barry Allen/Iris West
Comments: 12
Kudos: 14





	not the story of a wreck,

"Did that man with my face do anything but murder people and ruin extraordinary young men?" Harry had snapped, just once, after he'd been violently introduced to Hartley Rathaway. 

"Cisco's fine," Barry'd said, automatically, "and Hartley made his own choices, you can't pin all of this on - him." 

"Not Ramon, _obviously_ not Ramon, that's not the point--" 

"What?" 

Harry sighed. He looked old and he looked worn, the way Barry felt, like they were out of time, like they're always out of time. He met Barry's eyes, and his face did something strange and angry, he jerked one hand in a sharp, slashing motion. 

"Leave it, Allen," he said, curt, and thank god he didn't say it gently, thank god he wasn't gentle, not with that face in that moment. 

They didn't talk about it again, and Barry made a conscious effort to stop watching Harry, shame hot in his gut. He hadn't thought. Realized. If it was obvious, if people could see. That. He couldn't think about that. 

In the beginning (so long ago, when he ran like a colt, so fresh, so new, almost nothing dragging him down, everything shockingly possible, everything a gift: the strength in his body, the care in Caitlin's voice, the delight in Cisco's) he'd felt guilty about it, but even that guilt felt childish now. Silly. It had been -- not the pride in that stolen voice, but the bone deep surety in it, the surety that he could do anything, any impossible thing. 

Run, Barry, _run_ \- and he had, was the hell of it. With that voice in his ear, calm, decisive, sure: he was a new creature, after the particle accelerator, hot, melting, ready to be molded. 

He'd -- he hadn't known, he hadn't _known_. It was sick, it was, in retrospect, an obscenity, but he _hadn't known_. And that made him hate Thawne, a deep queasy hate he didn't know how to handle, couldn't master, because how could _that_ man have let -- Barry _do that_ , it was immeasurably cruel. 

It had only been two or three times, delighted, embarrassed, in his bedroom, running hot, running quick, hah, vibrating into his own palm and thinking about Dr. Wells telling him to slow down, maybe. Telling him that this was a gift as well, and that they'd harness it together. He'd _googled_ things, just once, because he'd...wondered. What he could have, what might have been possible. And yeah, he'd felt a little guilty, but hot with it. He'd thought that Wells would have smiled if he knew, that focused, pleased smile, pulled his glasses off to watch, because in the early days he'd looked at Barry like Barry was a miracle, the answer to his sins, and Barry had felt -- gilded. 

Now he doesn't think about it. He doesn't let himself think about -- that. 

Thawne almost certainly knew. Sometimes knows. Maybe will know. For _his_ sins, Barry is stuck with any number of Eobard Thawnes. Sometimes they know that he's thought about Harrison Wells in his room, alone, and sometimes they don't. Time is...complicated, and Barry doesn't know if it's fair to hate him for it or not. 

Iris knew, but they didn't talk about it. 

You had to look on the bright side of things. You had to, and Barry did, and he doesn't think that Iris knew what they'd been talking about, the first time. 

"Wait, stop," she'd said, gasping, sweating, deliciously hot and slippery against his fingers, his tongue. 

He'd looked up at her, overcome once again because this was _Iris_. Sometimes he still couldn't believe it, but here he was, in her bed, loving her with mind and body, soul and will -- he felt bright, clean, electric with her, barely big enough to hold this love, this joy. 

"I have an idea," she said, smirking, wicked. "You - Barry, sometimes you go so fast you _vibrate_ , you know what this means? You should take your hand and put it in me," 

and everything went away for one white second. 

Two white seconds. 

Thawne, his hand in Cisco's chest. 

Thawne, his voice in Barry's ear as he ran, nothing but the lightning and that voice, forget death, forget taxes, Wells was sure of one goddamn thing on this earth and that was Barry -  


"I know, I'm a genius," Iris had said, and kicked him lightly in the ribs, cradling him with her legs, delight on her face, in her eyes, "and I'm the luckiest girl in the world, c'mon, superhero boyfriend, don't tell me I broke you," and Barry had swallowed, hard, once, and slid two fingers into the core of her, so carefully, so so carefully, and let the lightning come.

The worst part was that it was still good, still - he'd still - 

She'd fallen asleep, afterwards, relaxed, happy. Proud of herself. 

He'd thrown up in the bathroom. You had to do that at normal speed. 

"You hate him," she'd said, troubled, hurt, and he'd done that, put that hurt on her face like a bruise, but it wasn't something he could undo. "I don't know what to do when I see you hating someone." 

"He - it's not okay, Iris, it's not _clean_ , but sometimes I." If it had been real, and Eddie still alive, and Ronnie, and Dr Wells - all of them dead and gone, and while people were dying across the city Barry couldn't wait to hear a kind word from the man killing them, he had _thought_ about him at night, and Iris knew his whole soul but he couldn't say that to her. "Harry's great-" 

"Oh _is_ he," Iris said, smiling sudden and brilliant, "that's probably the first time someone's said that about him, I'm telling, he'll be furious -" 

" _No_ , Iris, that's not the -- sometimes I miss. Dr. Wells. Who wasn't even a person, how stupid does this sound -" 

She hadn't said anything. Just watched him, slow and careful and gentle. 

"It was a lie but it was such a good lie," he said, helplessly, "I can't stop thinking about that lie and sometimes I still want it --" 

"Oh," she said, certain: "yeah, you're a terrible person. You want Ronnie alive, you want _Eddie_ to be alive, how dare you? and you want _him_ to be a brilliant scientist who thinks you hung the moon instead of a murdering lunatic, how cruel you are, you don't think I want that? He told us a perfect story, of course we all _want that_." She was on his lap and he let her kiss him, in the bloody present, where none of that was true: 

"It was wrong, Iris," he said, and the weight of it was choking him. Thawne thought he'd lost, but it had just taken a few more months. "The way I thought about him was _wrong_." 

She stopped. Looked at his face, her pupils moving rapidly but he saw every twitch, and he could feel the seconds passing, wondering when she'd realize, every second a nightmare. 

Finally, she said, calm and serious: "You listen to me, Barry Allen. I've watched you love people for twenty years, and you love us so well, your love makes all of us better, don't you dare think that's ever a mistake," and it was firm and steady and thank god it was vague, and he settled into himself, felt the strength of his body again, the rapid burr of his heart. "If you didn't love people, I don't know what I'd do, I wouldn't know _you_ , do you understand?" 

He kissed her. It wasn't okay, it was a weakness, a sick place inside of him, but she'd seen it, she knew now, and she was there to help him guard against it.

**Author's Note:**

> hello yes I felt like Wallowing. 
> 
> when does this take place? *waves hand vaguely* in the season 2 au where barry and iris are dating and incredibly traumatized 
> 
> no harrison wells on any earth has ever considered the possibility that barry allen could be ruined, but it had been a stressful fucking day, okay? all of these young people are always so traumatized by his doppelganger, and then there's *another* young man obviously in love with the dude, right, and desperately fucked up about it, and it's impossible to tell whether the violent and embarrassing revenge-monologuing is worse than the staring, the *staring*, for fuck's sake, Allen, so that just popped out, and then oh *no*, Allen really thought it was a secret? that he was being discreet? extremely bad day for all parties involved


End file.
